


Hot and Cold

by lunarlunatik



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlunatik/pseuds/lunarlunatik
Summary: Tuan Yugyeom and Kim Mark go on another ski trip.





	Hot and Cold

We have been to this ski resort once before. A couple of years back, I think? when the others went home for Chuseok. That first time he suggested it, but this time I did. Mark threw this really annoying little smirk at me when I brought it up. This hyung, seriously. What the hell was he doing that for? What a complete pabo.

 

 

It's just that we don't have anything scheduled for the next three days, you see? S' not like it's a date or anything remotely close to that.

 

 

Me and him? That kinda cheesy stuff? Ewwww!!!

 

 

This time I drive us, trying not to pay any attention to Mark sitting beside me; he still has that infuriating smirk on – perhaps it got stuck there permanently? – and I might not be able to tramp down the urge to throw us both off the cliff just so I can be rid of it.

 

 

We arrive at the place quite late and decide that snowboarding and skiing can wait til tomorrow.

 

 

“Hey, wanna build a snowman?”

 

 

Mark says from behind me. Apparently, he is already done with his unpacking while I've just only taken out my pyjamas. Well, he hasn't brought much with him. It's weird, but no matter the temperature, he always sleeps in the nude. Maybe it's an American thing? Or a foreigner thing? Cos come to think of it, Jack is the same way. Bam too.

 

 

And who is the dongsaeng between us, again? He sounds so happy and excited by his own suggestion, so desperate to be out in the open with the cold air and the snow that I can't keep him in here waiting for me.

 

 

“You go ahead. I'll be out in a minute.”

 

 

I jerk a bit when something warm and pillowy brushes my cheek and stays there for a second.

 

 

“Thank you for bringing me here. I'll build you the biggest snowman you've ever seen, Tuan Yugyeom.”

 

 

With the last hot puff of giggle against my cheek, he's out the door. Quick as a fox. I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe in and out as deeply and slowly as possible.

 

 

After I've put all my stuff away, I go out to see how his thank-you gift for me is going. If I don't supervise, he will somehow find a way to build a snowman the size of the resort itself. He really is like that. Go big or go home. Maybe another of his American traits?

 

 

I spot him as soon as I step outside. And as expected, Mark has this giant snowman, taller than himself, already standing proudly there.

 

 

He also has three petite girls crowding around him, and all four of them are laughing and shoving and leaning into each other like they've known each other for years when I know for a fact that Mark meets them here just now.

 

 

I know the last bit because . . . Mark is Mark, right?

 

To say I'm surprised would be a total lie. Our fans can fawn over his fan-service aegyo and feminize and infantalize him all they fucking want, but the truth is Mark is a total player. He can and does get them all, dicks and pussies and all the in-betweens. Mark's way is to let people think they take the active role, that they initiate things with him. He lets them think that they seduce and catch him when in fact they can have him only when and as long as he allows it. He is the one who sets the rules and the boundaries.

 

 

I should know, shouldn't I?

 

 

I don't mind. Really. Really, I don't. It's just that . . . I also don't need it thrown in my face like this. I turn around from the group and go back inside. I don't feel like doing anything with him now.

 

 

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

 

Based on past experiences, I'm not sure when or if he'll come back to our room tonight, but Mark comes in about 15 minutes after I did. I make myself concentrate on the phone and refuse to even acknowledge his presence, deliberately turning to face the wall.

 

 

I can hear him going about removing his outer gear. And this time his touch doesn't surprise me when he simply just plasters his whole self along my back, like there's nothing amiss between us.

 

 

He puts his lips on the back of my neck, just resting there, barely any pressure.

 

 

Fuck.

 

 

Mark really knows a lot of my weak spots. And why wouldn't he? We've been fucking for years now. His damp satiny lips start to graze around my neck and only then do I jerk away from his touch.

 

 

Shouldn't he be with those bloody girls? since they were practically gagging for his dick?

 

 

“Awww someone's cranky. Want some hot chocolate?”

 

 

Yeah. Fucking patronize me. Why the fuck not, right? since I'm way younger. Maybe too young for him, even. These past few years, since we started . . . whatever the fuck this is . . . I've been trying to make him see that I . . . that maybe we can . . .

 

 

I scoot further away from his warmth.

 

 

Mark doesn't say anything, just sighs like I'm the most difficult child on the planet and leaves the bed. I keep scrolling on my phone, doing it so fast I can't even see anything, just something to do to distract myself from the choking pressure I have in my chest now that he has actually moved away from me.

 

 

The smell of chocolate hits me a couple of minutes later, reminding me of the first time we came here together. After we fucked till we couldn't even move and there was no actual food in the room, Mark got up and made me a cup of instant hot chocolate.

 

 

We did nothing aside from skiing, fucking, eating, more fucking, and sleeping. It is still one of the best trips I've ever had.

 

 

Tonight feels so far from that that I can barely accept that this is the same resort, almost literally the same cabin.

 

 

A small hand taps my shoulder a couple of times.

 

 

“Here you go.”

 

 

He doesn't sound like he enjoys this trip or anything anymore. And that somehow makes me want to be even more of an asshole to him. I give him nothing except telling him with my eyes to leave me the fuck alone.

 

 

Mark grits his teeth and his delicate knuckles turn so white around the steaming mug's handle. He wants to throw the mug so bad, at me or at the wall, but for once he opts to put it down on the tiny table by the window. He does it violently enough that it splashes.

 

 

He hates it when he doesn't have my full attention . . . when he wants it, of course.

 

 

Mark changes tactics. He comes back to stand at the foot of the bed, and when he sees that I'm watching, two small hands start to lift the hem of his t-shirt.

 

 

I fucking hate him sometimes, for thinking that this works. Will always work with me.

 

 

The bastard does it so slow that if anyone else tried, they'd look like a fool or a whore. But not him. His beauty and natural grace allow him to get away with doing whatever the fuck he wants.

 

 

Topless now, his porcelain skin has the illusion of warmth from the room's soft yellow lights. He shimmies out of his pants even slower, taunting me with inch after inch of those slim legs that I love so much.

 

 

He knows all my weaknesses, remember? Not just the ones on my body. My heart throbs, so does my head. But mostly my gullible dick.

 

 

He has only his red Y-front on now. Mark stalks to where I lie down watching his antics and climbs on top of me with a tiny relaxed smile, giving the impression of a cat who has broken every piece of china in the house and doesn't understand what he's done wrong.

 

 

Mark is definitely light, but there is a certain weightiness to him that reminds me of how much life and drive he has in him. And warm in a way that only those among the most passionate, the most beautiful can be. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. Legs tangled. Like this, I can smell him full-on. His girly perfume. The crisp smell of snow. A hint of chocolate. His own clean musk.

 

 

Those cursed lips kiss my chin. His thumbs caress my cheeks, making me look at his face, into his eyes.

 

 

“You're being such a big baby about this.”

 

 

His tone tries to soothe and seduce both. But really . . . for all his scheming abilities, he can sometimes be so fucking dense. Seriously, is this really the way to sort things out? Calling me a big baby? A BIG FUCKING BABY?

 

 

“Yeah? But you would still fuck me.”

 

 

Mark doesn't deny it. He just smiles wider and pushes his hips down harder, rubbing his perky cheeks on my hardening dick.

 

 

“Of course. I love your cock, remember?”

 

 

I refuse to touch him back. He doesn't fucking deserve it. How dare he . . . those girls . . . when this trip is supposed to be about us. Or at least I was hoping.

 

 

He continues to rub his whole body against me, moaning right into my ears whenever his nipples, his inner thighs, his dick got the right friction.

 

 

Fuck.

 

 

I wish I knew how to resist him. But since I don't, not yet, I do nothing when he drags my pyjamas bottoms down, just enough to let my fully hard dick spring out. I watch him put it in between his red red red lips. And down we go. Down. Down. Down.

 

 

Fuck.

 

 

His mouth is still the best thing on earth. So warm. So wet. And tight. Tight. Tight. Tight. And he keeps his beautiful almond eyes on me.

 

 

Fuck.

 

 

Though his mouth and lips are too busy with my dick to do anything else, I can see he is amused. By me. As usual. His stupid dongsaeng, whom he can just push around so easily with his body, his words, his manipulation.

 

 

I grabs his downy hair tight with one hand, needing to rough him up a bit, to let out the annoyance and . . . all the other feelings I can't name or admit I have for him.

 

 

He moans right around my dick. His mouth gets even tighter. His head moves even faster. The harder I tug the louder his slurping, his moans.

 

 

The sounds we make together echo in the small room. His eyes water and he chokes on my dick when I set the depth and pace for him. And no matter how much I want to prolong this, to prove that I'm not just a kid with no stamina and to have him close to me as long as I can, I just can't hold it. I never win against him.

 

 

The sound of him gulping my come down his throat is somehow more obscene than anything else.

 

 

I close my eyes tight, trying not to show him how disappointed I am with myself, with everything that has happened tonight.

 

 

Smooth, warm body covers me again. That pretty face rubs against the side of my neck. His honey voice is a bit lower, raspier than usual now: “Stop thinking. I can't believe you can still think after I just sucked your brain out.”

 

 

I can't blame him or his reasoning. Because he really doesn't know, does he? That it does not solve anything. Anything that matters. But I can't tell him that, can I?

 

 

The deep voice goes on: “Aren't you gonna look at me at all tonight?”

 

 

He sounds like he's tired of it all, not just the physical stuff, but emotionally too. With me. And for some reason . . . I feel like I'm gonna cry.

 

 

What a fucking baby, right?

 

 

“Yugyeom. Yu . . . oh fuck.”

 

 

He tries to turn me around to face him properly and I try to fight him, but he is strong and persistent and always gets what he wants.

 

 

'I . . .'

 

 

He sees what he makes me feel. And he doesn't know what to say. Because this is not the first time something similar has happened. It has. By the dozens. Sometimes I don't even get the consolation blow jobs.

 

 

He never apologises, and neither do I. What for, right?

 

 

Because we're not together.

 

 

Not exclusive.

 

 

He is not mine to keep.


End file.
